THE BLUES; A LITERARY ECLOGUE. "Nimium ne crede colori."-VIRGIL. O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to hue, THE BLUES; A LITERARY ECLOGUE. ECLOGUE FIRST. London - Before the Door of a Lecture Room. Enter TRACY, meeting INKEL. Ink. You 're too late. Is it over? Nor will be this hour. Tra. Ink. But the benches are cramm'd, like a garden in flower, With the pride of our belles, who have made it the fashion." So, instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la belle passion" For learning, which lately has taken the lead in The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading. Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my patience. With studying to study your new publications. There 's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords and Co. With their damnable Ink. Whom you speak to? Tra. Hold, my good friend, do you know Right well, boy, and so does "the Row: " You 're an author a poet Ink. And think you that I Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry The Muses? Tra. Excuse me: I meant no offence To the Nine; though the number who make some pretence I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop, VOL. V.-Nn Where I just had been skimming a charming critique, threshing, know who - you has just got such a That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely "refreshing." What a beautiful word! Ink. Very true; 't is so soft And so cooling-they use it a little too oft; And the papers have got it at last — but no matter. Tra. Not left him a tatter Not a rag of his present or past reputation, Ink. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you know Tra. What, won't you return to the lecture? Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there 's not room for a spectre. Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd — Tra. How can you know that till you hear him? I heard Loss! such a palaver I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver Tra. I make you! Ink. Yes, you! I said nothing until You compell'd me, by speaking the truth To speak ill? When speaking of Scamp ill, I certainly follow, not set an example. Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes Than Scamp, or the Jews' harp he nicknames his lyre, The devil! why, man! Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can. You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition: Tra. I say she 's an angel. Ink. Tra. And is that any cause for not coming together? Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with science. She 's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning Herself in all matters connected with learning, That Tra. Ink. What? I perhaps may as well hold my tongue; But there's five hundred people can tell you you 're wrong. Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. Ink. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue? Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you-something of both. The girl's a fine girl. Ink. And you feel nothing loth To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet Her life is as good as your own, I will bet. Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I demand Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and hand. Ink. Why, that heart 's in the inkstand the pen. Tra. A propos then? that hand on - Will you write me a song now and |